


Foolish

by quixoticbliss



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Denial, Episode Related, Multi, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticbliss/pseuds/quixoticbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is thrilled when he hears that Arthur plans to propose to Gwen and absolutely does not feel his heart smash into pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foolish

**Author's Note:**

> No plot to speak of. This is just what I think was going on in Merlin's head during/after the scene where Arthur announces that he's marrying Gwen. Based on the episode "Lancelot du Lac". (S4E9).

_I am happy._

His heart is still pounding by the time he reaches the armoury and though he suspects that it is not merely from physical exertion, he refuses to probe his feelings any further, insisting to himself that it is merely because there is nothing else to be found and not because he is terrified at what he might find. 

_I am happy. I am happy. I am happy._

He repeats the words till they lose their meaning, a talisman against having to think about his reaction to what had passed only moments before.

Needless to say, he is failing miserably.

By all rights, tonight ought to have been one of those nights Merlin loves best—sitting alone with Arthur in his chambers as he finishes his chores for the day, an unusual, comfortable silence between them instead of the near constant banter that characterizes their odd relationship. He was just putting the final polishes on Arthur’s armor when Agravaine came in and Arthur broke the silence.

_“I’m going to marry Guinevere.“_

He had dropped the sword he was shining with a clang. He mumbled an apology and knelt quickly on the pretense of inspecting the sword carefully for dents, to hide his suddenly unsteady legs and the strange, twisted feeling in his gut. The rest of Arthur’s conversation with his uncle drifted over Merlin’s ears unprocessed, save for a remark about Agravaine’s stubble making him unsuited for being Arthur’s wife, at which he had been unable to resist running his fingers over his own clean-shaven face in some bizarre sense of victory. 

When he had next looked up, he found the room empty. The sick feeling in his stomach rose and threatened to overwhelm him, and he sprinted from Arthur’s chambers, nearly knocking over a poor maidservant in the corridor in his haste, and went straight to the empty armoury, where he now sits, trying to calm his mind and to convince his traitorous heart that what he felt when he heard Arthur's announcement was merely surprise and not anything else.

_Happy._ Firmly. As though he can make it true out of sheer conviction. 

Perhaps he is suffering from a bout of indigestion. Come to think of it, Gaius's pudding _had_ seemed unusually lumpy today. Yes. That was it. It had just taken time for his body to realize something was off and he had coincidentally felt it at exactly at the time Arthur had spoken. 

_Happy._ Decisively. 

Or maybe he is showing the beginning signs of illness. Merlin does have a proclivity for colds, after all. Maybe he should ask Arthur for a day off. If he'll give it to him, prat that is. 

_Happy._ Desperately. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t known it was coming. Arthur and Gwen have been spending increasingly more time together after Uther’s death. He _is_ surprised that Arthur has decided to marry so soon after his father’s death, and that he hadn’t thought to tell Merlin beforehand about his plans, but he has always known that Arthur would marry Gwen eventually, hasn’t he? It had always been only a matter of time. There is nothing to be shocked about at all. 

He realizes suddenly that he is pacing across the floor, something he only does when he is upset about something, and grinds to a forceful halt, furious with himself. 

Had he not enthusiastically supported the budding relationship, teasing Arthur about Gwen being his true love at every opportunity, even going to the extent of writing bad poetry and picking flowers on his behalf? He had rejoiced that Arthur had fallen for someone who was kind and generous, and who would not be afraid to give him a piece of her mind when he was being an utter prat. He should be happy at this announcement.

_Merlin. Stop being such a clotpole. This is excellent news! Gwen and Arthur will finally be together after all this time._

He is _thrilled_ that his two dearest friends have found their happiness together.

But a tiny (treacherous) part of his mind whispers the truth--that though there is indeed happiness in his heart, there is something else too, that lurks and hides and twists in the corners, deceptively soft, and then loud as day. 

Pain. 

As though his heart has been wrung so tightly that it now lies limp within his chest.

Merlin, whatever Arthur says, is not a fool. He has always known that he feels an attraction to Arthur—but who in the kingdom doesn’t feel that? The people love their young, golden king. They love his bold courage, his skill as a warrior on the battlefield, the way he glows after a hard-won victory defending his people. He has already managed to win the complete devotion and trust of his knights, a feat made more impressive by his youth and that fills Merlin with a fierce pride when he looks at their gathering at the Table. Anyone with eyes would follow him blindly and Merlin has always counted himself among them. 

When did that change? Somewhere, between the friendly bickering and solemn declarations of loyalty to his prince, his feelings had passed the normal boundaries of friendship and become something deeper. This raw desperation is something more than a subject’s devotion to his king. 

His first impression was certainly awful—he had thought Arthur was little more than an arrogant, over-privileged bully. He had been sure that the Great Dragon was mistaken in his prophecies. Surely such a prat could not rule the kingdom with any degree of wisdom or grace. 

Yet over the months these misgivings gradually gave way when he began paying attention to other things about Arthur. Little things. The way his eyes shine with a bright fervor when he argues with his beloved father on the side of _peasants_ of all things. His utter hopelessness at writing love letters and all things romantic. The laugh that sometimes bursts out of him when he is in Merlin’s company, an open, genuine laugh that Merlin sometimes suspects is reserved for him alone. The way his hair is mussed just after he wakes up, and how just when Merlin is about to point it out to tease him, a ray of sunlight hits his golden hair _just so_ and makes him look so unfairly handsome that Merlin entirely forgets what he is about to say. They are such little things, so seemingly inconsequential that he never consciously realized when he had made the transition from doubt to grudging respect to feeling, _knowing,_ that, he will lay down his life for Arthur without a thought, and for no other reason than that he loves him. 

It is probably all the Great Dragon’s fault for putting the idea in his head—with all of his talk of destiny, and Merlin and Arthur being two sides of the same coin, and all of that. But his mother had seen it, too, hadn’t she? How can he not think of Arthur as more than just his master, more even than just his so-called destiny with such talk? 

_But what difference does it make? It's not as though it matters anyway._

That much is certainly true. It's not as though Merlin can tell Arthur about his feelings. What would come of it but embarrassed awkwardness? Or worse, Arthur avoiding him entirely? Dismissing him from his service? An involuntary whimper escapes him at the thought. He can't afford that. It is his sacred duty to protect the kingdom and protect Arthur. He can't destroy the trust he has built with Arthur for something so selfish, if he is meant to fulfill his destiny of bringing magic back into the land. 

Even if, by some miracle, Arthur returns his feelings, what could come of it? It's not as though Merlin can be his _queen_. The kingdom needs an heir. That is the way things have always been done. The wishes of a serving boy, however powerful and magical, hold no sway over the matter of the succession. Not to mention the tiny fact that Arthur still does not know about Merlin’s magic and will probably despise him when he finds that Merlin has been lying to him for so long.

And then there is Gwen. Gwen, who was his friend in Camelot when no one else had been. If anyone should be queen, it is she. She cares for the people as much as Arthur does, and Merlin knows her already sharp mind will be further honed by the responsibilities of being queen. 

_And she loves Arthur,_ he thinks, as guilt twists in his stomach. How can he betray his friend by being in love with the one she loves, especially when he himself had encouraged the match from the beginning? After all, he had been the one to clear the way for the relationship in the first place by telling Lancelot, noble and self-sacrificing Lancelot, that Gwen cared for Arthur, knowing that Lancelot would never stand in the way of their relationship if he thought she would be happier with someone else. To ruin Gwen’s happiness, not once, but twice, would be cruel indeed. He will not do it. 

No, it would be better for everyone if he never felt any of this at all. He would focus on his happiness for his friends and the treacherous feelings in his foolish, foolish heart will fade away of their own accord. If he repeats the reassurances to himself often enough, they will become true. He is sure of it.

So Merlin puts on a smile as he listens to Gwen’s joyful acceptance of Arthur’s proposal—with absolutely no tears in his eyes and certainly with no dull ache that threatens to overwhelm his heart.

_I am happy. I am happy. I am happy._


End file.
